


You Drifted Into My Life

by veritas_st



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders, sometimes, how they got here.  How they got to this point rather than what everyone thought when Derek wandered into town, nothing more than a devastatingly good looking drifter looking for a place to stay for a few nights.  How they went from lust filled rutting up against Stiles’s jeep to Stiles holding a gun to Derek threatening to shoot him, to this, to the easy just <i>being </i> with each other they have now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Drifted Into My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from coralauratalia on Tumblr. She asked for an AU where Stiles is a 20 something working for the Sheriff's department when Derek shows up in town. Takes some canon and moves a little bit from her original prompt but I hope you like it love!

Derek’s spread out on the mattress, his face pressed into the pillow. His hair sticks up where Stiles ran his hands through it last night and tugged on the long strands. The sheets are tangled around his legs and Stiles thanks God that its too hot right now for sheets because he would be loath to wake Derek by tugging the sheets out from his tangled limbs. The sheet rides low on his back, tempting Stiles with its promise of the rise of Derek’s buttocks, Derek’s skin like melted caramel in the light from Stiles’s laptop, his tattoo the only mark again his skin. 

He wonders, sometimes, how they got here. How they got to this point rather than what everyone thought when Derek wandered into town, nothing more than a devastatingly good looking drifter looking for a place to stay for a few nights. How they went from lust filled rutting up against Stiles’s jeep to Stiles holding a gun to Derek threatening to shoot him, to this, to the easy just _being_ with each other they have now.

Stiles remembers the day Derek blew into town like it was yesterday. 

_The pen taps a rhythm out against the table top and Stiles frowns at the computer screen in front of him. His dad is shouting at someone behind his office door and Barney, his partner, looks up front his own computer and grimaces at Stiles._

_Stiles has been at the Sheriff’s department for a few years now, paired up with Barney, a Lieutenant, straight out of college. Stiles was straight out of college, not Barney. Barney’s a 30 something year old with a small beer belly and a laugh that sounds like it comes from his toes. Stiles is 25, young and eager, already promoted to Sergeant, following his dad into police work like he was meant to. He spent his college years getting over the crushing embarrassment of having Lydia Martin laugh at him at senior prom to moving onto someone else. Someone slightly less feminine. Slightly more…male. It had been a shock to him, to say the least. Not to Scott though who apparently, despite moving away from Beacon Hills with Allison for college, had known for years. Stiles had punched him on the arm for not clueing him into that fact._

_“Excuse me?” The quiet knock on the reception desk makes Stiles jump and Barney cocks his head in the direction of the desk before going back to his own work. Stiles sighs and wonders if he could ignore whoever it is long enough for Erica to come back from her lunch break. There’s another knock and whoever it is clears their throat and Stiles sighs again and stands. He works the crick out of his neck as he makes his way out to Reception. “Hi.”_

_“Um…can…help?” Stiles stutters because he turns into a gibbering speechless wreck when confronted with a good looking face and this face isn’t just good looking. It’s like the God’s carved this face to punish everyone for being normal looking. Even the slightly large front teeth when the face smiles can’t detract from the stunning cheekbones and what colour are those eyes?_

_“You ok?” The face raises an eyebrow and Stiles feels his cheeks burning._

_“Yeah sorry, how can I help?” He clears his throat and the face sticks a hand out and Jesus that hand._

_“Derek,” Stiles takes the hand and he really needs to get laid soon if shaking the hand of a pretty face is making him horny._

_“Sergeant Stilinski,” Stiles resists the urge to rub the feel of Derek’s hand from his own and shoves both of them into his pockets instead. “How can I help?” He asks again._

_“I uh…just got into town, need somewhere to stay and…”_

_“We’ve got a Tourist Information,” Stiles offers and Derek shrugs._

_“Closed.”_

_“Right, well there’s a motel just down the road, not much but its clean and cheap. How long you staying?”_

_“Not really sure…” There’s something shifty about Derek and despite his beautiful face and oh my god those arms when he crosses them over his chest, Stiles takes a mental step back._

_“Ok well, carry on down the road and you’ll see it. Can’t miss it.” Derek nods and Stiles taps on the desk with the flat of his hand._

_“Thanks…nice to meet you Sergeant.”_

Derek shifts in bed, his fingers grazing along Stiles’s thigh and Stiles absently puts a hand to Derek’s hair. Derek snuffles in his sleep and quietens and Stiles lifts his hand back to his laptop. 

_“Come here often?” Derek slides onto the bar stool next to Stiles and Stiles lifts an eyebrow at him._

_“Really? You’re going with that line?” He asks and Derek shrugs, lifts a finger at Danny who dutifully fills his glass with bourbon._

_“Thought it might work,” Derek says, swilling the amber liquid around in his glass. Danny looks at Stiles and raises an eyebrow. Stiles glares at him and shakes his head._

_“You thought wrong,” Stiles says and Derek puts his glass back onto the wooden bar._

_“Sorry, I thought…”_

_“No you were right about that, just…crappy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me,” Stiles smiles a little and despite his reservations about the drifter, his stomach flutters when Derek smiles back at him._

_“Noted,” Derek says. “So…what’s a guy to do for fun around here?” There’s a cheeky glint in his eyes and Stiles has to look away._

_“Danny,” Stiles replies nodding in Danny’s direction. Danny’s got dimples to die for a body to match and everyone loves Danny. Stiles has had more than one drunken fumble with him since coming to the conclusion that it was hard muscle he liked rather than soft curves._

_“Not really my type,” Derek says and looks straight at Stiles._

_“Really,” Stiles replies, looking away again because he can feel his cheeks heating up and his jeans getting tight._

_“Yeah, I prefer…slightly skinny Sergeants actually,” Derek grins suddenly, bright and easy but there’s something hidden under his smile that makes Stiles shiver a little. Derek takes it for something else and looks pointedly down at Stiles’s crotch._

_“Right,” Stiles digs out his wallet and pulls a couple of bills out, he waves them at Danny and puts them on the bar. “Good luck with that…”_

_He’s out into the cool night air before Derek has a chance to say anything else._

He was an idiot really, Stiles thinks, as Derek shifts again, onto his stomach, his hand curled inwards up by his head twitches, an idiot to get involved with Derek. But then again, if Derek hadn’t got under his skin the way he had by being the persistent asshole he was, then Stiles wouldn’t have looked deeper into the murders that lead to Derek’s arrest. 

_“Have a drink with me,” Derek says it like an order when he catches Stiles grabbing his usual box of Friday donuts for the Sheriff’s Department._

_“Was that an order?” Stiles pays from the donuts and raises an eyebrow at Derek. Derek narrows his eyes slightly but there’s a smile lurking underneath the blank expression._

_“Would you like it to be?” The voice is low and like liquid gold and Stiles feels his pants grow a little tighter, goddam him._

_“What is your deal anyway? You blow into to town to what? Become my stalker? You know I can arrest you?”_

_“Hmmm…handcuffs,” Derek hums behind a full of shit eating smirk and it makes Stiles want to punch him. Or kiss him. Fuck._

_“Ok stop, fine,” Stiles sighs and slides his donuts onto the passenger’s seat. “One drink.”_

_“One…and maybe I can persuade you to have another,” Derek runs his fingers down Stiles’s arm and Stiles shrugs a little to get them off._

_“I’m not that easy,” Stiles counters and Derek’s face sobers._

_“I’m starting to get that.”_

Derek dreams sometimes, and Stiles knows they’re not of rainbows and candy canes. He hears the broken off cries in Derek’s breathing, the way his skin beads with sweat and the way his fingers twitch like he’s reaching out for something. Derek never talks about it but Stiles knows, Stiles can see it in his eyes when he wakes, that haunted look that Stiles used to get back when he nearly killed Derek. 

Derek shifts, slides a hand around Stiles’s thigh, his fingers resting on the soft skin of his inner thigh, his forehead pressed to Stiles’s hip. 

_Despite his slightly shifty exterior, Derek’s charming. His smile disarming and Stiles cant help but lean back against his jeep and open his thighs slightly to make space for Derek. Derek kisses like he means it, like he knows exactly how to crack open any misgivings and make Stiles Derek’s personal slave with one touch of his lips. Stiles sighs into the kiss, his hands pressing to Derek’s hips, tugging, pushing away, still so unsure of what the hell he’s doing with a drifter he knows practically nothing about._

_“Told you I could persuade you to have more than one drink,” Derek mutters and Stiles huffs out a laugh against Derek’s temple, Derek’s lips sliding against Stiles’s jaw._

_He’s right, Stiles is pleasantly buzzed, the hum of really good whiskey in his veins and the fuzz in his brain as Derek hums against his skin and presses that little bit closer, a thigh sliding between his own._

_“Told you I’m not that easy,” Stiles replies, pushing Derek back slightly so he can breathe. Derek’s eyes are dark, even in the semi darkness of the parking lot Stiles can see that hooded lust in them and it makes him swallow almost nervously. Derek licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair._

_“Fair enough,” Derek shoves his hands into his pockets and blinks. “But I’m going to wear you down, Stiles.” It’s a thinly veiled threat, veiled with humour and Stiles represses the shiver that runs down his spine. No matter how much he wants to throw caution to the wind and pull Derek back, rut up against him, Derek’s ringing all sorts of alarm bells in Stiles’s head._

_“I know nothing about you,” Stiles says, squinting at Derek across the small space between them. Derek huffs out a laugh and runs his fingers down Stiles’s cheek._

_“Probably for the best,” he mutters, his gaze going far away for a second._

_“Probably not for the best to say that to a cop,” Derek huffs out a laugh again and mock salutes at Stiles._

_“See you around.”_

Derek hadn’t let up. Stiles smiles fondly down at the messy hair resting against his thigh as he remembers the way Derek had been there whenever Stiles had turned around. If Stiles’s stomach hadn’t twisted with lust every time he saw Derek, he would have had him arrested for stalking. 

“You know,” Stiles says conversationally as he puts his grocery shopping into the back of his beat up jeep. “Stalking is considered a crime in California,” he stands straight and turns around to find Derek behind him, just like he knew he would. Derek smiles crookedly and shrugs a little. 

“I’m wearing your down,” he says and Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

“Said like a true stalker,” Derek laughs and Stiles tugs the door of his jeep open. 

“Have dinner with me, Stiles,” Derek’s hand is on Stiles’s where its curled around the top of the door and it’s the first time since Derek blew into town that Stiles can hear honesty in his voice. A faint hint of pleading. 

“Ok,” the word is out of his mouth before he even realises and Derek smiles brilliantly for a second. “Wait…” The smile fades a little. 

“You said ok, no take-backsies,” Derek says and Stiles really laughs this time. 

“What are you? Twelve?” 

“Come on Stiles, you’re dying to get to know this enigma,” Derek gestures at himself and Stiles raises an eyebrow again. 

“I said ok, now some of us have a job to do,” he smiles a little and Derek grins again. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7.” 

…

When Stiles gets to work the entire Sheriff’s Department is in chaos. A body had been found in the woods, well, half a body. The other half was still unaccounted for. Stiles feels a thrill like he would have back when he was a kid, with Scott. He quells the thrill by thinking of the family of the poor person and Sticks his weapon into his holster and organising a search for the other half. 

There’s something niggling at the back of his head as he searches the woods, the dry leaves crunching under his boots. The air is cold, his breath circles around him as he walks, the distant barks of the search dogs keep him company. He keeps thinking of Derek, of the blinding smile when Stiles said yes, of the way Derek’s eyes get dark every now and then when he thinks no one else is looking. 

“Over here,” there’s a far off shout and Stiles makes his way over to the direction the shout came from.

When Stiles gets there he’s expecting the other half, what he’s not expecting is the other half, partially buried surrounded by a spiral of rope and some kind of purple flower woven in between the rope strands. John looks confused and worried as he radios it in, talking to his shoulder as he nods once at Stiles. Stiles narrows his eyes at the scene and wonders what the hell happened here. 

“Who owns this property?” He asks, nodding up at the large derelict house a few hundred meters away. The house looms out from the trees, half falling down, half burned to the ground. 

“We’re checking that now, Sergeant,” says someone who’s name Stiles cant remember. He nods and looks back up at the house and swears he sees movement through one of the windows. He shakes his head and looks back down at the body. 

…

“Haven’t you got a date?” John drops a file on Stiles’s desk at 6.55 and Stiles looks up from his computer, blinks and sees half a dead girl surrounded by wildflowers. 

“Yeah, in five minutes, but I’m going…” 

“No you’re not going to cancel,” John says and pats Stiles on the shoulder. “Get your mind of things and go out. You’ve been at it all day.” 

“We all have,” Stiles protests and his dad just shakes his head. 

“Do I have to take your badge and gun?” 

“You can’t do that because I wont go on a date,” Stiles says and John raises an eyebrow. 

“Watch me.” John walks back into his office, throwing a “go on a date Stiles,” over his shoulder before shutting the door again. 

…

Stiles has got a handful of Derek’s hair, his mouth sealed over Derek’s and Derek groans, sliding his thigh between Stiles’. He can’t quite remember how he got here but there’s another pleasant buzz of alcohol in his blood stream and Derek’s voice had been low and soothing as he talked at Stiles in the half dark of the bar. There’s a niggling sense that something is wrong but Derek tugs his hips a little closer and bites down on Stiles’ bottom lip and Stiles can’t seem to work up the energy to care. 

“Come home with me,” Stiles hears himself say as Derek slides his mouth along Stiles’ jaw. The words surprise him and it seems they surprise Derek as he pulls back long enough to look at Stiles with a raised eyebrow and a cocky grin on his face. 

“If you insist.” 

…

Despite his lingering sense that Derek had been hiding something fundamental to who he was, Stiles had given himself to him that night, fully and completely, come with Derek buried deep inside him and felt himself falling just that little bit for him. 

Derek shifts in the now, slides his lips, warm and full across Stiles’ thigh and his eyes flutter like he’s fighting to stay asleep. Stiles smiles down at him a little and gets lost once again in his memories. 

…  
 _  
“Stilinski,” he groans into the phone, the early light of morning stealing in through the gap in the curtains and cutting across the floor before falling across Derek’s back. The tattoo between his shoulder blades moves as Derek shifts and Stiles rubs sleep from his eyes._

_“You need to come in now,” his dad’s voice is gruff and sleep deprived and Stiles groans again as he pushes himself up. A headache pounds slowly and faintly behind his eyes and he stumbles into his bathroom, grunting an “ok” down that phone and dropping the phone onto the bathroom counter. He fumbles in the cabinet and swallows to Tylenol down before slashing cold water onto his face. Derek’s messy head appears behind him, a slow smile creeping across his face as he takes in Stiles’ naked body and Stiles squeezes toothpaste onto his brush and shoves it into his mouth._

_“Gotta go to station,” he says around the toothpaste and brush and Derek winds an arm around Stiles, and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Derek smells of sleep, his body warm and plaint and Stiles wants nothing more than to right now crawl back into bed with him and see if Derek can take it the same way he gives it. Something akin to worry flickers across Derek’s face as he looks up at Stiles in the mirror. Stiles spits toothpaste into the sink._

_“Stay,” Derek says and Stiles frowns a little and pulls away from Derek’s grip._

_“Can’t,” he replies simply and Derek sighs, pouts childishly, but there’s something still lurking under his expression. “Dead body in the woods,” Stiles doesn’t know why he says it but something dark swims across Derek’s face and Stiles pushes a little more. “Well half a body really…” Derek slides in next to Stiles at the sink and washes his hands, avoiding looking at Stiles in the mirror. “Derek?”_

_“What?” Derek looks at him then and his face is the perfect look of innocence._

_“You don’t know anything about that do you?” Stiles asks and Derek shakes his head with a bitter laugh._

_“Really Stiles?” Derek narrows his eyes a little and Stiles backs away._

_“What?”_

_“Accusing me of murder after sex?” Derek shakes his head again and crosses his arms over his chest._

_“I wasn’t accusing you of murder, simply asking if you knew anything about it,” Stiles says and Derek stalks back into the bedroom. Stiles sighs and finds Derek with his pants halfway up his thighs. “Derek.”_

_“I’ve gotta go,” Derek says and Stiles wants to punch himself in the face._

_“Derek, come on,” he tries and Derek whirls around to glare at him._

_“Come on? You just asked if I knew something about half a dead body in the woods and you want me to ‘come on’?”_

_“Fuck…I’m sorry,” Stiles sighs and Derek pulls his shirt over his head and sighs too._

_“Ok…I’m probably going to freak you out right now, and to be honest I’m freaking myself out a little so just bear with me…I move around a lot, I have since like ever, but I felt here…with you…that I could have…stayed,” he trails off, and shoves his hands into his pockets and Stiles feels like a complete and utter dick._

_“Derek.”_

_“Yeah I know, it’s been one night and I barely know you but Stiles it wasn’t a one night stand for me last night,” Derek says and reaches out to Stiles like he wants to touch him. He thinks better of it and drops his hands back to his sides. Stiles swallows down the flutter of unease at something he can’t put his finger on and steps towards Derek._

_“Me neither, I’m sorry,” he says and tugs on Derek’s waistband. Derek quirks the corner of his lips a little and curls his fingers under Stiles’ chin._

_“It’s ok.”_

_…_

_The station is quiet, it’s still early but there are remnants of late nights all round as Stiles makes his way across the bullpen to his dad’s office. Paper cups and take out contained lie strewn across the desks and Stiles feels a pang of guilt at leaving early._

_His dad looks tired and old and Stiles knocks once on the door and pushes it open._

_“The property belongs to the Hales,” John says and Stiles frowns and sits down in the chair in front of the desk._

_“Why does that name ring a bell?” Stiles asks and John spins a file around and pushes it in front of Stiles. There are pictures of the burnt out house, a few of charred corpses and Stiles swallows._

_“The son was a few years older than you, the house caught fire, burnt to the ground with most of the family still inside. The boy and his sister always claimed it was arson,” John says and Stiles feels a coil of worry in his stomach. “The boy was called Derek.”_

_“Derek?” The coil of worry turns to lead and Stiles feels bile rise in his throat._

_“Yeah, would be about 30 now, tall, dark hair…ring any bells?” Stiles shakes his head._

_“No,” John reaches out a hand to him and pulls it back when Stiles pushes himself to his feet._

_“Stiles,” John half stands, his hands out to Stiles to placate._

_“I asked him this morning dad, he said he didn’t know anything,” Stiles runs his hands through his hair and John frowns at him._

_“You asked him this morning? Why the hell did you ask him?” He demands and Stiles sits back down in the chair heavily._

_“I thought he was hiding something from me,” Stiles says from behind his hands. Through his fingers his sees his dad shake his head._

_“You’re off the case. The property belongs to the Hales and you’re dating one, I can’t have you on this,” he says and Stiles drops his hands._

_“Dad, I…” Stiles touches the pictures of the Hale family and looks up at John. John’s face is hard, professional and Stiles knows what’s coming._

_“Sergeant,” John says, a crack of an order and Stiles pulls his hand away from the file and straightens._

_“Sir.”_

_“You’re off the case.”_

_“Yes, Sir.” He stands._

_“Where are you going?” John demands and Stiles stalls at the door._

_“If I’m off the case I might as well go home,” he says and John looks at him, calculating, the look of a father who knows his son._

_“Stiles, stay away from him, I mean it.”_

_…_

_“You said you didn’t know anything, Derek Hale,” Stiles finds Derek in the kitchen with mug of coffee in his hands. Stiles rests his own hand against the butt of his gun and Derek flicks his gaze to the side arm and back to Stiles’ face._

_“I don’t,” he says and Stiles shakes his head at him._

_“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps and Derek calmly put the mug of coffee down on the counter._

_“Stiles…”_

_“The property belongs to you, you stroll into town and people die on your property, what are you doing back here Derek?” Stiles demands, and Derek flicks his gaze back to Stiles’ gun._

_“Ok just…”_

_“Tell me to calm down and I pull this out right now,” Stiles curls his hand around the handle of his gun and Derek swallows._

_“Ok, ok…yes the property belongs to me but I promise you Stiles I have no idea what that body was doing there,” Derek sounds genuine but then it occurs to Stiles he doesn’t know Derek well enough to know when he’s telling the truth or not._

_“We got the DNA back,” Stiles says, remembering the DNA results in the file his dad had given him, the sick feeling as he looked at the markers the white lines against the dark background. “The Sheriff’s department took you and your sisters DNA after the fire to identify the bodies…” Derek doesn’t move and it strikes Stiles as odd, almost unnatural, that someone can stay still like that._

_“I assume you’re getting to the point,” Derek says and he tries to sound bored but Stiles can hear worry in his voice._

_“The body, buried on your property, was your sister…” Derek doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t blink but there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes and Stiles takes a step towards him. “Derek, I can help you but you have to tell me what’s going on,” he wants Derek. He wants to help him, but he’s scared of the man standing in his kitchen, the man who looks like he’s about to go through some sort of transformation into…well Stiles isn’t sure. Derek’s jaw twitches, his hands curl into fists by his side._

_“I can’t,” he bites out, turning away from Stiles and pressing his hands into the kitchen counter. He drops his head for a second and it almost looks like water is flowing under Derek’s skin._

_“Derek…” Stiles ventures and Derek lets out a noise from his throat. “You have to come to the station.”_

_“It wasn’t me, I need to speak to…” Derek pushes himself upright and turns to Stiles and Stiles could swear there was a flash of ice blue in his green eyes._

_“Who? Derek talk to me,” Stiles urges again and steps back this time as Derek steps forward._

_“I’ve gotta go,” Derek pushes past him out of the kitchen and Stiles grabs at his hand._

_“No Derek you have to come with me,” Stiles tugs and Derek wrenches his hand free, practically growling and Stiles’ heart trips in his chest with fear._

_“Stiles,” Derek cocks his head to the side like he’s listening to something, “I’m sorry, I never would have dragged you into this...I’m going to kill him.”_

_“Kill who? Drag me in to what? Derek?” Stiles pulls his gun and holds it down by his side. “Don’t move, tell me what the fuck is going on?”_

_“You gonna shoot me Stiles? Shoot me after you just told me my sister is dead?”_

_“Derek Hale, goddamit, talk to me.” Stiles lifts the gun and points it at Derek’s chest. “You’re talking about killing people and dragging me into something and you don’t seem surprised your sister was cut in half and buried on your property so fucking talk to me before…”_

_“Before what?” Derek demands. “You want me to tell you how I cut her in half? How I buried her on my own land? You want me to tell you that?” Derek practically snarls and Stiles wonders when the hell this situation turned to shit. “What are you gonna do Stiles? Before what?”_

_“Before I put you down.” He’s being irrational, he knows he is, any other guy Stiles would be talking calmly, trying to coax them into a corner where he could cuff them and drag them down to the station but this guy, this guy has spun him around and Stiles feels the gun waver in his hands as Derek steps forward so the barrel sits against his chest. Stiles swallows._

_“Do it!”_

…

“You’re thinking too loud,” Derek mumbles, his voice a tickle against Stiles’ thigh and Stiles closes his laptop and puts it on his bedside table. 

“Thinking about when I pulled a gun on you,” he says and Derek huffs out a sleepy laugh. 

“Good times,” he mutters and Stiles hums, shifts lower and runs his fingers across Derek’s forehead. 

“How did we get here?” He asks and Derek blinks open his eyes and squints up at Stiles. 

“Trust. You trusted me. In the back of your mind you trusted me.” 

“Still do.” 

…

_“Do it!” Derek snarls and Stiles swallows and lowers his gun._

_“I’m not going to shoot you,” he says, a weird calm descending over him and Derek rubs at the spot on his chest where the barrel rested a second before._

_“Before I explain what’s going on Stiles, and I promise I will, I have to speak to someone,” Derek says and Stiles blinks at him._

_“Who?” Derek shakes his head and Stiles sighs. “Talk to me.”_

_“Trust me,” Derek says, implores, and despite everything, despite the dead girl buried on his property, the fight lurking under Derek’s skin, despite the sickening knowledge that Derek could put him down before he even blinked, Stiles does. Goddammit it he trusts him. Derek moves and curls his hands around Stiles’ face. “Trust me,” he says again and in the back of his mind Stiles’ inside voice is screaming at him that this is a diversion tactic but he sags into Derek’s touch and Derek’s lips brush against his. “I’ve gotta go…let me.”_

_Stiles curls his hands around Derek’s wrists and tugs, keeps him close even though Stiles feels Derek try to pull away._

_“Come back.” He says and he means after, when Derek’s done what he needs to, when he’s spoken to who he needs to. Derek gets it and nods, his forehead sliding against Stiles’._

_“I promise.” Stiles lets go of Derek’s wrists but keeps his eyes closed. Derek kisses him, it’s gentle but there’s an urgency behind it that Stiles can practically taste. He opens his eyes and Derek’s gone._

…

“One day you’ll stop feeling guilty about it,” Derek mutters and slides his palm across Stiles’ cheek. 

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees and then huffs out a laugh against Derek’s lips, “suppose.” 

“Stop, I gave you good reason to pull a gun,” Derek says, arching his body into Stiles’. 

“He was your Uncle,” Derek huffs and Stiles runs his hands down Derek’s shoulder, where the scar would have been if Derek hadn’t healed. 

“Not then he wasnt.” 

…

_Part of being the Sheriff’s son had been to listen in on the police scanner when he’d been a kid, he and Scott huddled together listening, getting into trouble. Stiles still has his, tucked away behind boxes of crap from his childhood in his closet. He digs it out and fires it up and fiddles with the dial._

_He wants to believe Derek, he does, he supposes, but there’s something going on that he can’t comprehend, something in the back of his mind screaming at him to leave it be. Stiles has never been good at listening to that voice._

_Barney’s voice comes over the scanner through the crackle of static and it makes Stiles jump._

_“Sheriff, no sign of Hale yet. Apparently his uncle has had no visitors since Hale turned up in town. He’s only been here once.”_

_“Ok, keep a few eyes there and head back to the station.” Stiles blinks at the scanner. Derek has an uncle. In town. He runs his hands through his hair. ‘I have to speak to someone’. Derek’s voice echoes in his head and Stiles knows, without a shadow of a doubt, knows that Derek means his uncle. His phone beeps next to him and Stiles looks down at the message from his dad._

__Don’t even think about listening to your scanner __

_Stiles would laugh if things weren’t so unfunny. He types his password into his laptop and pulls up the internet. It doesn’t take him long to find out about the fire, about how the two Hale children had no one left but themselves, their Uncle sent to the convalescent home in Beacon Hills, apparently catatonic and badly burned. The Hale’s had left town, and nothing had been heard about them since. Until Laura’s body had been found on the old Hale property. Luckily, none of the reporters in Beacon Hills had picked up on the story yet so they still had time to keep this under wraps. Stiles still had time to figure out what the hell was going on and how the hell Derek was connected._

__A couple of eyes _, his dad had said. That means two people at the most. Stiles knows where they’ll be as well, he’s more than sure he can make his way into the home without being seen. He grabs his jeep keys and pockets his phone and is out of the door without even thinking about it._

_…_

_The home looms out of the darkness, like something out of a horror movie and Stiles supressed a shudder as he parks his jeep around the back and gets out. The makes his way around the side of the building and sneaks a peak at the patrol car parked out front. He can make out two bodies in the car and nods to himself. His dad may know him, but he knows his dad right back._

_Breaking in the back door is easy, the security is pretty lax and Stiles lead a misspent youth breaking into buildings all over town. He doesn’t have his badge so he ducks into an open room when he sees one of the night nurses. There aren’t that many people around thankfully but Stiles manages to make it to one of the nurses stations and pull up the room details for Derek’s uncle. Stiles makes his way through the eerily dark corridors till he finds the right room. There’s a light filtering from under the closed door and Stiles can hear muffled voices. Then a crash, and a growl that sounds like an animal. Stiles pulls out his own weapon, one he keeps in his glove box in his jeep, the one he’s pretty sure his dad knows about but didn’t ask Stiles to hand over. It feel different that his standard issue one, his hands unused to it. There’s another growl and Stiles kicks the door open, the gun trained out in front of him._

_What he sees in the room is nearly enough to make him drop the gun. It’s definitely enough to make him freeze, his mouth open, heart tripping over a beast in his chest. Derek’s crouched on the floor, lips curled back into a snarl, his sideburns inexplicably longer than before, his teeth…elongated into points. His eyes flash ice blue and back to green in the semi darkness when he looks at Stiles. A low growl rumbles out from behind the door and Derek launches towards him. Stiles backs into the wall just as Derek flies past him and the thud of two bodies hitting the floor reverberates through the room. There’s a flurry of limbs, growls that don’t sound human and Stiles points his gun at whatever he can see. Derek skids across the floor and hits the opposite wall and he crouches again, eyes blazing as he stares at the thing across from him. Right in front of Stiles’ eyes the thing, that looks half human half…something else, shrinks back to full human and red eyes dim._

_“Derek,” Stiles says, voice loud to his own ears, gun trained on the now human form in front of him._

_“Stiles,” Derek gets to his feet._

_“What the fuck is going on?” Stiles asks, his voice rising in hysteria. The figure in the room with them clears its throat and steps forward into the light from the hallway. Long hair hangs over a forehead half burned, twisted scar tissue marring the skin. Despite the burning the face is handsome and Stiles blinks._

_“So you’re Stiles,” the man says and Stiles grips the gun tighter._

_“Who the fuck are you?” Stiles spits back and Derek’s hand lands on his arm, soothing despite the way his face looked a few minutes ago._

_“Get out of here,” Derek says, stepping forward and pushing Stiles behind him. The man in front of them, Derek’s uncle, Stiles is guessing, bares his teeth and snarls and Derek growls back. “Go.” Derek pushes him and Stiles stumbles. “Go.” Derek turns back to him, teeth long like fangs, eyes burning blue and Stiles sees the claws where his fingers used to be and raises his gun again._

_“Derek,” Stiles tries again and the red eyes across the room burn at him._

_“For God’s sake Stiles…run!”_

_Stiles does, sprints out of the door as he hears Peter Hale, uncle and last living family member of Derek launch himself at Derek. Through a shower of plaster and wood, Derek appears in the hallway, skidding across the floor as Peter steps through the settling dust._

_“You can’t win Derek,” Peter says, hauling Derek to his feet and Stiles’ stomach drops as Peter curls a long fingers hand around Derek’s throat. “Not against me.”_

_“How against me?” Stiles asks before he even realises he’s spoken, his gun trained on Peter’s temple. Peter pauses, turns towards Stiles and grins, the scars on his face healing before Stiles’ very eyes._

_“You?” Derek lifts his hand and draws his claws down Peter’s arm. Peter howls inhumanly and drops Derek. The gun in Stiles’ hand wavers slightly, through fear, as Peter advances on Stiles. “I can smell your fear from here…and…” Peter cocks his head to the side and glances back at Derek. “I see…I thought you wanted him for the Pack, not just for you.” Derek shakes his head, trying, and failing, to get to his feet._

_“No,” he says and Peter curls a hand around his throat again and pulls him to his feet._

_“He would be good,” he spins Derek around and clenches his hand around Derek’s neck. Derek claws at his hand, his teeth bared as he looks at Stiles. “Look at him.”_

_“No,” Derek rasps out again and Stiles grips his gun tighter, his finger ghosting over the trigger. Derek’s teeth shorten back into his gums and he nods almost imperceptibly at Stiles, a silent “do it” that Stiles hears loud and clear over the pounding of blood in his veins._

_“Would you Stiles? Would you shoot him?” Peter holds Derek close like a human shield and Derek nods again, his eyes screaming at Stiles to pull the trigger. Stiles calculates in his head, the place where Peter’s heart should be, the place he would have to shoot Derek to get to it. Through the shoulder, a simple enough shot if Peter doesn’t move. Stiles closes his eyes briefly. “Would you?” Stiles opens his eyes, breathes out and pulls the trigger._

_They both drop like stones, Peter howling again and they both go still. Derek moves first, grimacing in pain as blood seeps through his fingers where they’re pressed to the hole in his shoulder._

_“Derek?” Stiles keeps his gun up and Derek doesn’t look at him, gets himself over Peter and Stiles sees the claws slide out from his fingers. “Derek…don’t.”_

_“You don’t understand,” Derek says, his voice clipped with agony and Peter moves under him._

_“Derek.” Derek looks at him then, blood against his cheek and Peter’s hand curls around Derek’s wrist, the one attached to the hand holding him down._

_“Trust me,” Derek says again and Stiles wants to stop him from ending the man under him. He wants to but he can do nothing but watch as Derek slashes open his uncle’s throat in one liquid movement. Derek’s shoulders sag, he lowers himself, his forehead resting on his uncle’s chest and Stiles drops to the floor himself, the adrenaline, the strangeness, the fear making his legs weak. Derek looks up at him, his eyes fading from a burning red to normal. “Stiles.”_

_Stiles lifts his gun again and points it at Derek._

_“I need you to listen to me,” Derek says and pushes himself to his feet with a grimace. He pulls his shirt aside and shows Stiles the hole in his shoulder. He takes a step forward and lowers himself to the ground just in front of Stiles but out of reach. The wound has stopped bleeding and looks about a week old now. “Stiles can you listen to me?” Derek asks and Stiles looks up at his eyes. So normal now, the way they looked last night._

_“What the hell are you?” Stiles looks back at the bullet wound on Derek’s shoulder and its gone. “You…I…you killed him.”_

_“I had to Stiles, I had to,” Derek shifts forward, closer and Stiles would move back if he wasn’t already leaning against a wall. Fear of Derek floods through his veins, of what he’d seen Derek become._

_“You’re a fucking werewolf?” Stiles lets out an hysterical laugh, “I’m going crazy.”_

_“Stiles,” Derek reaches out and curls his hand around Stiles’, the one wrapped around the gun still pointing at Derek. “You trust me, despite everything, you still trust me. I will explain everything, I promise, but you have to get out of here…I will find you.” Police sirens sound in the distance and Stiles blinks at Derek. “Go. I’ll come find you.” Derek pushes him gently and tugs the gun from his hand. “Go.”_

_…_

_Stiles can’t get hold of his dad and he doesn’t dare call Derek. He sits at home, staring at the blank wall, a bottle of beer warming in his hands, un-drunk, until his dad knocks on his door._

_Stiles lets him in without a word and John runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired, Stiles thinks, and then wonders what the hell he looks like right now._

_“A lot of weird shit is going on Stiles,” John says eventually, taking the beer from Stiles’ hand and taking a sip before pouring the rest down the sink. Stiles can’t even work up the energy to protest. “I have no idea what the hell just happened but Derek has been let go. I’m not about to give you my blessing to go running off to him but…I can’t exactly stop you.”_

_“Dad…”_

_“I don’t like him, but I’d like him less if he’d dragged you into this. It’s his only saving grace right now. If you were still a kid I would tell you to stay away from him,” John sighs and claps Stiles on the shoulder. Stiles wants to tell him he doesn’t even know if he wants to go anywhere near Derek anymore. He wants to tell his dad that there’s a pit of fear in his stomach, that he shot a man through the shoulder, another through the chest. That he saw his…boyfriend…rip his uncle’s throat out._

_“I don’t…” Stiles shakes his head._

_“Be careful,” John interrupts and pulls Stiles into a brief but bruising hug. Stiles clings back until his dad pulls away._

_It’s only when John leaves that Stiles realises he didn’t say a whole sentence the entire time he was there._

_Stiles rubs the back of his neck and wanders back into the kitchen, his trigger finger itching with the muscle memory of pulling the trigger._

_“Shit,” he jumps when he sees Derek leaning up against the counter._

_“Sorry,” he mutters and Stiles sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “Are you…ok?”_

_“Peachy,” Stiles snaps and pulls another beer from the fridge. He holds one out to Derek and Derek hesitates a second before taking it. “You?”_

_“I got shot,” Derek says, a hint of bitter amusement in his voice and Stiles twists the bottle top off and glares at him._

_“You healed…in front of my eyes,” Derek drops his gaze and Stiles feels stupidly guilty for a second. “You also killed your uncle in front of my eyes.”_

_“He killed Laura,” Derek says and Stiles wants to pull him close, the loss in Derek’s voice is almost enough to forget all that happened tonight…last night, he amends, glancing at the clock on his kitchen wall._

_“You said you would explain,” Stiles says, leaning back against the opposite counter and Derek sighs._

_“Will you sit with me?” Derek nods at the old couch and Stiles shakes his head._

_“Not yet. But I’ll listen.”_

_So Derek takes a deep breath and explains._

…

“We should get up,” Stiles mutters and Derek runs his nose up the side of Stiles’ neck. He rumbles out his displeasure at that idea and pressed Stiles into the mattress. “Dad’s coming for brunch.” 

“Shit…I forgot,” Derek groans and Stiles grins up at him. 

“You both promised to try to get along,” Stiles reminds him and Derek grimaces and rolls his hips. “Stop it.” 

“I love you but I hate you,” Derek groans as Stiles slides out from under him and stands. Stiles grins down at him. 

“Yeah cos that makes sense.” Derek sticks his tongue out like the child he can be. The child Stiles has come to realise he is after all this time. His dad and Derek still don’t get on that well but after moving in with Derek, he made both of them promise to at least try to get on. They both begrudgingly agreed. 

Stiles is hopelessly in love with an Alpha werewolf, one who wandered into town and turned his life upside down. 

His dad’s not there yet with the werewolf thing but they both know it wont be long before he figures it out and Stiles, and Derek, will be ready for that. Together. 

Despite everything.


End file.
